A Merry Little Thanksgiving
by blacktop
Summary: Joss Carter planned a quiet holiday meal as the ideal setting to introduce Reese to her firecracker mother, Inez. But things never turn out exactly the way you plan, do they?


**A Merry Little Thanksgiving**

Joss hated to wake him after only a few hours of sleep.

But she loved waking him like this.

John was oblivious beside her, his soft snuffling a constant reassurance through the night. But Joss needed him out of the apartment and on his way before her mother arrived to fix Thanksgiving dinner.

The big introduction wouldn't go according to plan if Mama caught him dragging out of her bedroom at ten in the morning.

There was only one solution to the dilemma of how to get John up and out in good time. A win-win answer for sure.

Joss smoothed her hand along his chest, counting the slow steady heart beats she felt there. Her hand dipped below the loosely draped sheet, noting how the sparse hair gave way to bare skin in the tender concave below his ribs.

Bruises were festooned along the right side; a faint yellow mottling was all that remained from the angry purple splotches that had alarmed her the past weekend.

Her scar on his stomach had receded to just an accusing ridge of puckered flesh.

She avoided fingering his tightly clasped navel because this wasn't the time for tickling. A quick kiss there was sufficient for now.

He sniffed and then sighed, the wet smack of his lips indicating he was swimming up out of sleep. But she was determined to take her time.

He was already aroused, solid and eager for her even in his dreams.

She pushed the sheets down around his knees and felt her own sex throb to this commanding invitation. But despite her pulsing desire, she was determined to take her time.

Her lips closed around his cock; the feel of its weighted contours slipping against her tongue was overwhelming. Rather than engulfing and surrounding him, she felt herself swallowed whole by him, drifting down into salty depths, submerged and taken in a new way.

Hot tears dripped down her cheeks and onto his skin.

She didn't want him to see her cry and she glanced up to be sure he was still asleep. Safe, she closed her lids again**.**

With her mouth she loved the sueded ridges, the corded veins she found there. He felt heavy and slick as she tensed around him. She tasted his salt mixing with hers on his rigid form.

With her eyes closed, she missed the movement of his hands until they were on her face. He drew his fingers down both sides of her jawline then back up to where the muscles released and grasped just below her ears.

After a few moments more, she felt a groan rumble through his stomach; not a climax, he was trying to speak.

"Joss…inside you. I need…Oh."

She understood and paused.

Without breaking the focused energy of the instant, he turned her on her back and penetrated her again.

They resumed a familiar rhythm, the hairs on his chest scoring her excited nipples, his mouth covering her ears and neck with warm kisses.

She could feel the dense tightening in her belly signaling the end. But she didn't want that yet.

She stroked her hands along his straining flanks and grasped at his waist.

Softly but urgently she called out to him.

"John, stop."

"What's wrong?"

He lightly kissed her on the mouth.

"Nothing."

Another kiss, this time robustly with his tongue. When he released her she spoke again.

"I'm O.K. I'm just…I don't know… I want to hold on to this. This. Like this. Forever."

He shifted his hips, rooting himself more deeply inside her. Waiting for her signal.

After a moment, she tightened her inner muscles around him, sliding her hands up to his biceps then his shoulders.

Squeezing and squeezing again.

He closed his remarkable eyes.

"Oh God, Joss, I need…"

"Yes, I know. Yes…Home."

Afterwards, they lay panting, his left hand grasping the back of her head, pressing her face into his chest while she stroked the curve at the small of his back.

They drifted off to sleep.

XXXXXXXXX

Inez Neal was never late.

She might seem frivolous and foolish to some who focused only on her loud clothing and platinum shock of hair. But the peoplewho knew her realized that she was driven and she meant business.

So it was extremely frustrating to find that the only parking space near Jocelyn's apartment that morning was three blocks away. She was supposed to be in her daughter's kitchen, starting the preparations for Thanksgiving dinner by this time.

But here she was, scampering down the blustery street like some hopped up high school cheerleader.

These boots were cute enough, but definitely not made for running or even walking. She couldn't wait to slip into the old moccasins she kept in Jocelyn's closet so that she could get at the cutting and peeling and chopping and frying and baking that lay ahead.

As she rounded the corner of Jocelyn's block, Inez stopped short. Ahead, moving in the opposite direction was a tall figure with the black top coat and graceful pigeon-toed stride she recognized as belonging to Jocelyn's man, John Reese.

He didn't see her, she was sure.

So she lowered her head against the snappy winds and followed him. John walked fast, but she kept him within sight. She figured he was just going to his car and would soon be on his way. He was supposed to join the family for Thanksgiving dinner at four in the afternoon.

Jocelyn had carefully explained two weeks ago that tonight's dinner was the moment she intended to introduce her mother to her boyfriend. Inez was touched by the tremor in her daughter's voice as she outlined the plans. Jocelyn was so uptight, so goody two-shoes, so obedient about everything, that it was sweet to see her trying to unbend and blossom a bit.

Inez was not at all surprised to learn that the plan included John roasting the turkey at his own apartment and bringing it over when he arrived. Jocelyn had famously ruined the bird at the last two Thanksgiving dinners.

So it was a relief to everyone when it was agreed that she and Taylor would have the limited task of helping Inez prepare all the side dishes.

Of course what Jocelyn didn't know was that Inez had met John many weeks earlier, in a chance encounter at Otto's Uptown Diner.

After that first morning, the two had met for coffee there on several more occasions. They always found plenty of subjects to talk about: silly things like sports or politics or Inez' latest hair color and newest boyfriend. And serious things like Jocelyn and Taylor.

Without fail, Inez had the impression that John was artfully avoiding giving away any information about himself, even as he probed for more insights into her daughter's life.

If she'd had her druthers, this was not the man Inez would have picked for Jocelyn.

John was good-looking and smart enough. But there were too many mysteries to him: Where did he come from? Who were his people? Could he care for Taylor? What was his job? What were his plans?

When she daydreamed, Inez imagined her little girl with a steady, reliable man, a church-going black man with old-school manners and an office job, a man who could be counted on to protect and cherish her forever.

But the choice wasn't hers to make and she vowed to keep her hopes to herself.

Inez and John had agreed to let Jocelyn pick her own time and place to formally introduce them. Inez found it was not always easy to pretend that she had never met the man. But as a retired emergency room nurse Inez had decades of practice divulging only what needed to be shared and nothing more.

She prided herself on her ability to keep a secret. And uncover one too.

Now she saw John pause on the sidewalk ahead of her and so she stopped as well.

He touched a finger to his ear and she could see that he was talking. Probably into one of those fancy smart phones like Taylor used.

Then he turned abruptly and slipped into a narrow passageway between two brownstone apartments. Inez ran forward in time to see him sit down on the lowest step of a fire escape scaffolding that hung at an angle against one of the buildings.

His back was to her so she was able to approach slowly, mincing on tip toes to reduce the noise.

When she circled around to stand in front of him, John started and she saw the color drain from his cheek bones. He was too pale to begin with, but this shock left him really white and scary looking, she thought.

His voice, already low, got lower.

"Alright, send me the address and I'll get right on it." He paused, listening, looking into her eyes with a sort of pleading expression that frightened her.

"I know it's urgent, Harold. No need to apologize." He removed the piece from his ear and dropped it into his pocket.

"Inez. You surprised me."

"John. Fancy meeting you here."

They let the silence hang between them for a long minute. Then he coughed.

"You're not supposed to know I was at Joss's apartment this morning."

"You think I can't figure that out? I may look like I just fell off the turnip truck, but I've been sneaking around back alleys for longer than you've been alive!"

That brought a faint smile to his lips, but it quickly faded.

"I don't think I'm going to make it back here this afternoon, Inez. I'm sorry."

He did look sorry too, in the special way that only a full-grown white man with tears hovering in his eyes can look.

"You going to tell Jocelyn?"

"I don't know what to say." He looked down at his gloved hands. "I mean, yes. I guess I'll try to call her and tell her this afternoon."

"She'll be expecting that turkey, you know."

"I know. I'll figure out something to fix this, Inez. I promise."

John stood from the fire escape step and leaned against the rusted railing as he towered over her.

"But Inez, don't say anything. Let her figure out another way for us to meet. This is important to her. To do it right."

"You better believe I know it too. These lips are sealed, John. I can keep a secret as good as you."

XXXXXXXXX

By four-thirty, the creamed corn was soldered to its glass casserole dish.

By five, the macaroni-and-cheese had congealed into a brick and the mustard greens were an emerald mess stuck to the bottom of a heavy iron pot.

At six, Inez reheated the five side dishes she could save with her dignity as a cook intact and served a vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner to her daughter and grandson.

Her hand-thrown biscuits were browned to perfection and the cornbread dressing with the chopped up raisins turned out real nice. The turkey giblets Inez had saved and frozen from a church dinner last summer were especially welcome as flavoring for her special secret gravy. And the marshmallow-topped candied yams tasted pretty good, if she did say so herself.

But John Reese was a no-show and the turkey with him.

Taylor seemed happy enough fixing biscuit sandwiches of stuffing and cranberry sauce to fuel his marathon of football watching. If only the ill-starred Lions had been able to defeat the Houston Texans in overtime, he would have declared it a perfect end to a crummy day.

But his mother was steamed.

Using up all the soothing words she knew, Inez stood with her daughter in the kitchen as the hours ticked by. Then she just let her stew alone in thundering silence at the dining table.

The temptation to spill the beans was strong. But Inez kept to her promise and didn't reveal that she had an idea that John might not be able to make it that afternoon.

She could tell Jocelyn was upset, embarrassed, and then increasingly worried as the hours of silence stretched out.

Inez rarely spent the night at Jocelyn's apartment except when her daughter was desperate for help after pulling an unexpected late-night assignment or an emergency investigation.

But she was prepared to stay over now, even if it meant sleeping on the sofa, to preserve her little family's peace of mind through what looked to be a looming crisis.

No one said a word when Jocelyn finally retreated to her bedroom and returned to the living room a few minutes later, having removed the festive wine-colored blouse and long black skirt she had worn for the occasion.

The new outfit - gray sweatshirt, loose jeans, and white tube socks - reflected her defeated mood, her mother knew. The worst was that bedraggled red elastic scrunchie Jocelyn used to tie up her ponytail. The pitiful thing was a badge of misery for sure.

At seven, the knock on the front door startled all of them from their gloom.

"John!" Jocelyn slid in her socks across the hardwood and flung open the door with relief on her face.

But her expression darkened as she took in the hulking figure in black filling the entrance.

Not John Reese, Inez knew that much.

This person was less than six feet tall, shrouded in a fingertip-length cape with a silver lining which matched a silver band on the black fedora hat. The rest of the clothing – crisp pleat-front trousers, button down shirt, and thick soled shoes - was also all black.

Not so much elegant as utilitarian and sober, Inez thought. Like an old-time preacher.

"Danvers!" Jocelyn seemed stuck in monosyllables.

She moved backwards to let the visitor into the apartment, dodging an enormous black-clad roasting pan which was suspended like a metal bassinet at waist height.

"Taylor, come over here and help carry this, this thing, to the dining room."

The boy took one handle and the two of them hoisted the huge pan onto the table. With a dramatic flourish, the stranger lifted the lid to reveal a glowing, perfectly browned turkey nestled in its own fragrant juices.

Twenty pounds at least, Inez estimated as she leaned over the bird, inhaling its buttery aroma.

She knew she had a part to play in this theater show, so the next words were hers.

"Oh, John, so nice to meet you at long last." She stuck out her hand toward the mysterious person, who did not raise an arm in greeting.

Jocelyn intervened smoothly.

"Mama, this isn't John. This is Danvers. John works for Harold. And Danvers is Harold's chauffeur, housekeeper…"

"And I am Mr. Burdett's cook," Danvers intoned in a voice both melodious and ominous.

And his enforcer too, Inez thought. She had no doubt Danvers was good in a brawl if pushed into a corner.

"Danvers, this is my mother, Mrs. Neal, and my son, Taylor." Jocelyn had recovered enough to play the perfect hostess at this point.

"Very nice to meet you, Madam. And Taylor, I have heard many lovely things about you from Mr. Burdett."

Danvers lifted the black fedora to reveal a gorgeous head of thick inky hair swept back from a high white forehead. The hair sloped in a straight waterfall to just past the collar. Blunt cut and no nonsense, for sure.

Then there was the nose. It arched majestically from between two rather close-set dark eyes over a mouth that was pinched and foreboding.

Definitely good in a fight, Inez thought, even though the square white hands looked soft and unblemished.

"Danvers, can I offer you anything? A drink or something?"

Her mother approved of Jocelyn showing off her best manners. A safety precaution, perhaps, but still good home training always counted in dicey situations.

"No, Detective Carter. But thank you."

Taylor broke his silence at last. Direct and to the point, his grandmother was proud to note.

"What's this turkey for anyway?"

All three members of the Neal-Carter family turned in unison for the answer.

Danvers stood stiffly to attention before the little congregation and delivered the response as a formal sermon, complete with graceful hand gestures and elaborately rounded vowels. Inez could almost see the impressive wooden pulpit rising in front of them.

"Every year, I prepare two large turkeys at Thanksgiving. Mr. Burdett won't eat but a single wing, no matter how much I urge him to enjoy a full meal. It is a holiday after all, I tell him. But he is adamant and I never prevail with him in this matter.

"But rest assured, we never waste the leftovers. We bring the turkeys to a soup kitchen, Friends In Deed. Perhaps you have heard of it. The Quakers run the center out of an old deconsecrated church in Chelsea. They have a soup kitchen and a small rooming house and a clothing distribution program there too.

"They feed about one hundred and fifty people every day of the year and on Thanksgiving that usually exceeds four hundred. I was among that hungry number in tough times a while ago. In fact, that is where Mr. Burdett found me four years ago. Ever since then he and I have been delivering our Thanksgiving Day turkeys to Friends In Deed.

"But this afternoon, he instructed me to bring one here instead. He said that he hoped you would accept this turkey, Detective Carter, by way of an apology for any inconvenience he may have caused your family when he assigned work to Mr. Reese today."

Oration concluded, Danvers bowed heavily and smiled for the first time.

Well, it wasn't the Gettysburg Address, Inez thought, but it sure was memorable.

Jocelyn was the first to reply.

"Oh, Danvers, that's so generous. I don't know what to say. We're overwhelmed, really."

"I hope the bird meets with your approval, Detective." Danvers bowed again, doffing the hat this time.

Inez cut her eyes to Taylor to shush the giggles that she could sense bubbling just below the surface.

"I'll be going then, Detective. I left Mr. Burdett at the soup kitchen serving meals and I have to get back to join him."

Arms spread wide, Danvers cast a baleful stare around the room to accompany the final benediction.

"So please, everyone, have a Happy Thanksgiving and a joyous holiday season."

Danvers glided toward the door, flinging it open without waiting for help from Jocelyn.

When the door fell back, a gasp escaped from the entire group, followed by profound silence.

There stood John in his black overcoat, carrying an enormous aluminum roasting pan.

He seemed as dumbstruck as the rest of them, Inez thought. Like a good-looking mule who had just been clobbered between the eyes with a mallet.

Again, Jocelyn was the first to speak. She issued orders while staring at John and laughing out loud.

"Taylor, come over here and help carry this thing to the table."

The boy joined John in hauling the second roasting pan to the dining room where they deposited it next to Danvers' black pan. Taylor lifted the top to reveal another giant turkey, golden and juicy, still warm from the oven.

"I didn't know…I mean…" John stuttered to explain. But he halted when Danvers sent a death beam his way.

Inez leaned over the new bird and savored its tasty promise. This was quite a turn of events. But she knew the next scene belonged to her daughter alone so she said nothing.

She watched as Jocelyn hugged her man, arms around his waist, her face pressed against his chest for a long minute. He raised his left hand to grasp the back of her head, holding her to his body.

Then she turned in his arms and, smiling broadly, said the obvious.

"Mama. This is John."

In that blessed moment, Inez saw her obedient little girl, who worked so hard in school, who turned in all her papers ahead of time; her quiet little brown girl who volunteered at the hospital on weekends and who never had a single date in high school.

Now, at last, her little girl was finally getting to go to the senior prom.

"John, I'm glad to make your acquaintance. I have heard all sorts of wonderful things about you from Jocelyn. I'm so happy to meet you."

Inez took John's hand in both of hers. She felt like hugging him too, but she wanted to keep their secret, so she didn't.

XXXXXXXXX

The next several minutes were spent solving the problem of the twin turkeys.

Ideas flew around the room, until Jocelyn suggested that they carry both roasts to the Friends In Deed soup kitchen where they could be put to good use feeding those who needed the meal much more than they did.

Danvers brought the black limousine around to double park in front of the apartment building and stood solemnly on guard next to the vehicle's rear door.

Looking out the front window at the scene below, Inez saw how the lamplight glinted dully off the silver band on the fedora and captured the chauffeur's stark profile in a frigid glow.

John and Taylor made two trips wrestling the turkeys back down the steps to the curb.

When Taylor gleefully called 'shotgun' to claim the front seat, Danvers drew him aside into a shadow and delivered an intense lecture in hushed tones.

As John clasped her elbow to escort her down the steps, Inez saw Taylor motion his mother towards him, an eager expression shining on his face.

He looked around to make sure the chauffeur was safely inside the cab of the vehicle and then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Mom, guess what! I figured out that Danvers is…"

"…a kind and generous person, Taylor. I know that." Jocelyn was quick with the interjection.

"No, Mom! Danvers is a _Quaker_! Did you know _that_?" Taylor grinned triumphantly, his new insight a holiday gift.

"Danvers didn't like me calling the passenger side a 'shotgun seat.' Said it was a celebration of violence that shouldn't be condoned. So I guess all that Friends In Deed stuff must have rubbed off, hunh?"

Jocelyn smiled and hugged her boy. "I guess so, Taylor. Sure looks like it."

Behind the limousine's smoky glass partition, John pulled down two jump-seats facing the back bench. He handed Inez into the car first and placed a roasting pan on either side of her as she sank into the deeply tufted black leather.

He and Jocelyn took the narrow hinged seats facing her, their legs angled towards one another, knees touching.

As the limousine made its way downtown through the sparse evening traffic, the three backseat passengers chatted easily.

Christmas lists and cookie recipes, the church bazaar, the annual party for the choir, shopping for those fruit cakes that had to be put up tomorrow. Inez wanted to share stories about her new boyfriend too, but this didn't seem the right time.

John interrupted the conversation once to take a call.

"Yes, Harold. Fatoumata and Aissatou are safely returned to the care of their grandfather tonight."

He looked directly at Jocelyn, who smiled.

"I wrapped it up a bit earlier than anticipated, thanks to the intel you relayed from Fusco. Mrs. N'Diaye put up some resistance. But now she's in the custody of the NYPD. Where she will be for a very, very long time."

Jocelyn's smile broadened and she nodded her approval.

"Yes, we're headed to your location, Harold. ETA in ten minutes, fifteen tops."

Inez leaned toward her daughter and wriggled her fingers in the air. She wanted to confiscate that miserable red scrunchie before they arrived at the soup kitchen.

Jocelyn, eyes dancing but obedient as ever, undid her ponytail and handed over the condemned hair ornament to Inez.

Then John took her little girl's hand and squeezed it once, twice, and yet again.

Fifteen minutes was plenty enough time for a cat nap, Inez thought.

So, as the extravagant Christmas scenes in the department store windows flew by, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
